


Handwritten

by hulklinging



Category: Runaways (Comics)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dark Magic, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4868966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it's the little details that say the most about us.</p><p>Chase meets the girl with purple hair, and finds Gert's diary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handwritten

**Author's Note:**

> Totally unbeta'd and being posted at two am because this has been half finished for ages and if I look at it to closely it will never get posted.
> 
> For the prompt: Chase/Gert 'something you said when we were the happiest we ever were.' Not sure if it really fits, but oh well.

Chase remembers the first time he saw her. He also remembers the screech of metal, the wail of an ambulance. He tries not to think about it, and fails miserably.

The next time, it's the night before they're brought to the arena. He's on a bus, and waiting at a light is Gert. Not-Gert. Someone.

He stares, but she never looks his way. Then he wakes up in Hell, and he can't think about how his dead girlfriend may or may not be haunting him. He's too busy trying to keep himself from joining her.

After that, it's him and his bike and trying to log enough miles to feel like he's far enough away to breathe. It never quite works, and he never stays away from home for too long. He can't stay, once he's there, feels claustrophobic under Karolina's pitying stare and Molly's anger on his behalf. So even when he's at home, he's not in the house much.

He's at some diner that's rough enough to not care that he sometimes comes in looking hardly alive. He doesn't sleep much, and he doesn't mean to, but he can't seem to keep out of fights. When he's travelling, it's fine, but in LA he's a loose cannon. He thinks back to the war, Victor ripped to shreds, and wonders if this is at all what he felt like. All his wires sparking, everything exposed.

He's nursing a cup of coffee, trying to decide if he wants food or sleep more, when a voice interrupts his internal debate.

"I know who you are."

Chase looks up, shoulders tense, and comes face to face with the girl with purple hair. He couldn't be sure, but he'd bet money she's the same girl he saw before. Up close, she looks more like Gert, and less. Her eyes are the right colour, but they're not hidden behind her signature glasses. Her mouth is achingly familiar, but the smile is too open. The girl is taller than Gert was.

The differences hurt, in a dull way, like an old wound aches before a storm. Chase lets his head thump back down onto the table again.

"Do you?"

"Yeah." She refills his coffee. "You're one of the kids from that guy's murder island."

He flinches, then tries to play it off like he's reaching for his coffee. This fools absolutely no one. "Kids? How old are you, twelve?"

"Eighteen," she replies with a scowl. "Almost nineteen."

God, Gert would have been the same. He puts his mug down. He feels sick.

"Right. Good for you." He reaches into his wallet, pulls out a rumpled ten he can't remember acquiring. "Here's a hint, kid. When you meet people who had to go through fucked up stuff while the world watched? Maybe don't bring that shit up."

He storms out, more angry than he has any right to be, and gets on his bike. He's halfway to Las Vegas before he even thinks of slowing down.

> _Hey Chase. Remember the year before we caught our parents killing a girl? You might not, you were too busy staring at Karolina. But I remember you making some remark about leaving the baby behind, and you winked at me. It was the first time I had felt like the rest of you thought of me as an equal, not a kid like Molly. It seems pretty stupid, now. That I was so worried about it. But I was fourteen. I thought our parents were just regular, rich person evil._
> 
> _We were all really young, back then._

"What is this?"

Chase doesn't want to touch it, can't even look at the little book in Molly's hands.

Molly doesn't back down. Her eyes are wet but her chin is up, because she's the toughest kid around, and she doesn't back down, even if she's got a mess of a big brother baring down on her.

He's so proud of her.

"It's Gert's," she explains, even though it's obvious, of course it is. "We found it when we were looking for clues, when you and Nico disappeared."

She means when she was looking for clues, because Chase knows she did it all on her own. Karolina's apologized for that fact almost a dozen times now, and he's only accepted about half of her ashamed sorries. It's not that he's angry with her, or with Victor, or anyone. It's not like they could have found them, after all. He's just angry in general. It's like how he felt when he almost sacrificed that girl for Gert. It's like standing in that drug dealer's den again, lying about the darkness inside him. He hates it, but this isn't something he can just wish away. That's why he's running.

Trying to.

"Why are you giving it to me now?"

"Because it's for you."

The thing about Molly is that even though she's young, or maybe because she is, she doesn't beat around the bush. And she doesn't lie, not to Chase. She says this impossible line like it's the only option, and so he has no option but to believe her. If she notices how hard his hands are shaking as he takes the journal from her, she doesn't say a thing.

> _Chase. I'm sorry for leaving you. If you're reading this, I must have, in one way or another. But this is also a time capsule. This is me trying to make sure you don't spend your time moping over your first girlfriend like something off of one of Karolina's parents soaps. And don't make that face at me. I know I was your first girlfriend._
> 
> _I know I wasn't your first, but that's different._
> 
> _Remember that first time? We didn't really waste any time. Guess the things they say about thinking you're close to death and wanting to be_ close _to someone is true. It wasn't spectacular, or anything. But afterwards you fell asleep on my shoulder and you drooled and I wanted to pinch myself, because here we were, teen runaways, children of murderers and criminals, and we were making something good happen, in the middle of all that._
> 
> _Yeah, even then, I knew we were something good._

"Chase, right?"

He's fallen asleep in the diner, and the girl who isn't Gert wakes him up. After the diary entry he just read, this is some sick kind of punishment, this mockery of that night. He raises his head off the table with a scowl, and remembers to wipe his mouth, just in case he had been drooling.

"I'm up, I'm up."

The girl's not looking at him. She's picked up the journal. The purple cover matches her nails. Chase feels sick, even though there's nothing in his stomach but shit coffee.

"What's this?"

He clears his throat. "Can I get some eggs? You work here, right? Do you always grab customer's possessions?"

She matches his scowl with one of her own. "No. I usually kick people who fall asleep on tables out, though."

Oh. Well, he can't really argue that. He means to snatch the book from her, but something holds him back, makes him just gently pluck it from her fingers instead.

"Got it." He stares down at the journal, thinks about Gert taking the time to write all of this down. "Hey, what's your name?"

"You want bacon with those eggs?" She asks. She doesn't wear a name tag. He can't remember noticing that before.

> _Chase._
> 
> _I don't know why I write your name at the top of every page. It's not like anyone else will be reading this. Or if they are, they suck and should stop that. Just because we're all living in each other's pockets doesn't mean we can't respect each other's privacy, Nico._
> 
> _Chase. Please don't do anything stupid. I'm sure you already have, let's be honest. But you've got this, now. So for me. Stick around. Keep moving forward. Don't let the world think they were right about us, that we're just like our parents._
> 
> _You're smarter than you let yourself think you are, Chase. I know you always thought I was too smart for you. But we just think differently, that's all. Although I loved when you called me smart. It made my little cynic's heart glow._
> 
> _That was gross, I'm sorry._
> 
> _I'm not sorry about this, though. I'm gonna be cheesy and inspirational and shit for a second, and you're gonna listen, because you're a good guy. Got that? You're a good guy, and you can change the world._
> 
> _You changed mine._

"You still running away?"

"Either we're close enough to know each other's names, or we're not, and you can't ask me questions like that."

"Okay, fine. You're the one who looks bored at some grungy cafe at three am. Me, I get paid whether you entertain me or not."

Silence.

"I'm trying the sticking around thing, for a bit."

"It helping?"

He shrugs. His body feels so heavy, but Molly has stopped looking surprised when she wakes up and he's still around. That feels good. "I think so, yeah."

"Good."

> _Chase. You can't run away, okay? I know, it's our catch phrase, it's what we do. We run away and we don't grow up. And that's fine, because grown ups suck and staying our ground only gets us killed, doesn't it._
> 
> _But just remember who you're running from. Make sure it's not yourself. Make sure it's not Molly, or Karolina, or Klara or Victor or Nico._
> 
> _We're all each other's got, after all._

"What's this?"

She looks down at him with an eyebrow raised. She's recently gotten an eyebrow pierced, cut her hair shorter. She looks less like Gert now. He can almost look her in the eye.

"It's your receipt."

"Did you... did you write it?"

"Yeah, our computer's broken. Why?"

He stares down at his receipt. Gert's writing stares back at him. No matter what girl is in front of him, these are Gert's letters on this piece of paper.

"I have to go."

And he's running again.

> _Chase._
> 
> _I did something stupid. I'm not gonna ask you not to be mad, because if you're reading this, that means I've also gone and gotten myself killed. So there's two big stupid things I've done, then._
> 
> _Maybe I can make up for it, though._
> 
> _What was our best moment, Chase?_
> 
> _I would probably say when you got Old Lace back for me. That was the moment I realized I might actually be in love with you._
> 
> _But that's me._
> 
> _I want to know what our best moment was. Together. I know, I'm going into sappy territory again. It's only because I know you're not being your usually sappy self, being in mourning and probably moping around all over the place._
> 
> _I need you to remember these things for me._
> 
> _I really hope you haven't pulled a Nico and gone full widower on me. I'll be really disappointed in you. Also, you would not look good with black hair. That's not me being mean, that's just the truth. If you wanna stick it to the man, do it another way._
> 
> _That's my totally not sappy way of saying I like you blonde, by the way. Idiot._

What was their best moment?

He thinks of the nauseating nicknames in the Leapfrog, of kissing in their parents weird underwater layer after she saved his life. He thinks about holding hands and jumping off into the sunset, after getting Lace back. He thinks about going back in time (or is it forward?) and staring at her, and wanting so bad to talk to her, to warn her. But then he thought of what that might change, about what they might miss out on. On how the Gert he had said goodbye to would have been pissed, if he decided to take that all away from her by messing with the timeline.

There are favourite moments, but he's not sure if they have a best moment. He doesn't pick up Gert's journal for almost a week, takes off to Seattle without telling anyone, comes back no less confused. He can't look at Gert's writing, all neat and postmortem. He stuck that receipt in the book like some kind of joke, like a bookmark telling him exactly when his life all went to shit.

Gert said he was smarter than he thought he was, but he's never felt more stupid.

Molly stamps her foot and throws a real life tantrum, when he finally comes back. It's like she's twelve again and feeling left out. Old Lace pissed in his bed. He's not sure if it was her idea or Molly's. Even Karolina is frustrated.

"Look, Chase, either you're dependable, or you're... gone." She almost said a name there, a name that's worse than any swear word, now. They haven't heard from Nico in months, although Victor called them to let them know he'd seen her. He should be home soon, at least. And Chase hears Molly and Klara whispering about Karolina calling spaceships late at night, so maybe not everyone is gone forever. "But at least just be consistent. We deserve that much."

She's not wrong. He writes a note and tapes it to the fridge like they're some kind of normal family, because there's no way he feels like cleaning his sheets right now, and he goes out for the night.

He pretends he's wandering aimlessly, but he can't even fake surprise when he ends up at the diner. She's working, because of course she is.

"Don't you have school or something?"

Her eyes look a little red, like she's been crying. "I'm really not in the mood for the usual, right now. Do you want food or not?"

He orders a burger, even though he's not hungry. It's something to keep him here, at least until his order's up.

There's only a few pages left in the journal. When he opens it up, he realizes that Gert didn't fill it all the way. He's got one last note, and then that's it.

He thinks about burying Gert twice. About almost dying because he chased after a shadow of her. He thinks about Molly's face when he came home, or how Nico looked like she no longer sleeps, last he saw her.

Maybe it's time to finish this. No matter how hard it is.

> _Chase._
> 
> _I don't want to go anywhere, you know. I know I can be insecure and you can be a dick and I know now that you and Nico kissed and I'm so, so pissed at you right now. But that doesn't mean I'm leaving, okay? I'm right here, babe. I'll be right here, and we'll finish this fight and it'll be like it was before, only we'll be stronger now,. right? How's that for shitty Hallmark sentiments._
> 
> _Fuck, you're an asshole._
> 
> _But I love you. I do. So no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere._

It's a shorter entry than usual. Chase wonders if she maybe didn't get to finish. That day was a mess, a gong show, and they rushed into it like they always do. And they paid for it. Gert paid for it. For his mistakes.

There are footsteps approaching him, and he rubs at his eyes, trying to hide any tears that might have leaked out. He's not against crying or anything, but crying in front of some strangers in a diner past midnight is not his favourite pastime.

There's a gasp. A plate drops, and he flinches, pulse racing. He's on his feet before he realizes it, body shifting like he's still wearing his Fistigons or his stolen armour. But this isn't Murder World. This is his favourite cafe, and his reluctantly favourite waitress is staring at the journal, wide-eyed.

"Are you okay?"

"What's that say?"

She points with a finger that's shaking. He follows her sightline, and sees that the empty page is no longer empty. It's covered in ruins, bright red. It looks like things he saw of the Minorus. Like Nico's magic.

"I don't know. I can't read it."

She reaches out to touch it, traces his name at the top of the page.

"I know this."

His stomach is falling. His vision is narrowing. He feels like he might pass out.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"No, I know this. I..." Her whole body is shaking now. "Whatis this, Chase? What's going on?"

He has to wet his lips before his voice will work. "What's your name?"

She looks at him with wide eyes, and he's never seen her look so stripped down. "I don't know," she admits, and his world is shrinking to just him and her. "I was... in an accident, is what they said. I don't remember."

"When."

"A few days before I saw you the first time. I'd just gotten out of the hospital. When you got hit, I... I thought you died. And then I saw you on TV..."

"We're hard to kill, I guess." He doesn't mean to say we, even though it's true. Nico should have died, and Karolina, and all of them a dozen times over, really.

She looks down at the journal again. "Is this mine?"

"It belonged to a dead girl."

"Is that what I am, then?"

He has no idea.

"You can keep it. You're the one who got it to do the weird ruin thing. You should keep it."

She hesitates, brows furrowed. "You're running away again, then?"

No. Not anymore.

"I just want to give you space. Here," He takes the receipt out of the book, grabs a pen from her pocket, writes down his phone number. "I'm not going far, okay. I'm not..." _I don't want to go anywhere._ "I'm not going anywhere. I just don't want to pressure you, you know, or make you bias in anyway." There's a word for that, something legal, but he can't for the life of him remember it. "But I'm not running, okay?"

She nods. As he leaves, he sees her pick up the journal with shaking hands, flip to the beginning, and start to read.

It takes her three months to contact him. He itches to move, to leave, for the scenery around him to change. Instead, he helps Molly and Klara paint their rooms. He gives Karolina shitty romantic advice until she throws something at him, laughing. He loses to Victor at chess but beats him at Mario Kart for the first time, and brags for a straight week. He calls Cassie, and the conversation is awkward but it's good. He almost burns down the kitchen trying to make Molly a birthday cake. He shows Old Lace Jurassic Park. Victor gets them a Netflix account and they argue over who gets to choose what they're watching on any given night. Sometimes, the argument is even better than the movie.

And then, three months later, he gets a text.

 _I think I'm in the right place,_ says the unknown number. _Can you let me in?_

He finds the waitress staring at the wooly mammoth statues with a frown on her face.

"This place is so weird."

"Not as weird as the decor of the secret layer downstairs."

She laughs. "That I do remember."

Chase can't think of the right way to ask if someone is a girlfriend back from the dead, so he doesn't waste time in thinking of something polite. "Are you remembering, then? Are you a Gert clone?"

Gert shrugs. "I think I'm more like a backup? A dark magic backup who can't access all the files just yet."

It's been in the back of his mind for months. But hearing it out loud makes it all of a sudden real. Gert is beside him. Maybe not the exact Gert he knew, but a Gert. Already, the world is better for it.

"And do you..." He shrugs. "I mean, are we, am I...?"

There's a hand on his shoulder, and she turns him to look at her. There's still hesitation on her face, but her smile looks a little more familiar.

"Chase. Even the weird older version of me knew she loved you. You really think I would forget that?"

With that, she so easily changes the future, says the words that she was never able to, before. He can't help himself. He leans down, presses a kiss against that smile, wraps his arms around a body that is the same and different. Just like her. But just like him, too. He's not the same Chase who watched his girlfriend die for him. For better or for worse, they're both a little off kilter. Which means they match.

She kisses him back, and it's like their first kiss and their last kiss and every kiss in between. More perfect than either of them ever expect.

After a moment, she hits his chest, and he pulls away reluctantly. She's trying to scowl at him but not quite managing it.

"God, your girlfriend pulls off an elaborate scheme to bring herself back from the dead, sorta, and you can't even welcome me back before you're shoving your tongue down my throat?"

Her hand finds his and squeezes. It still fits perfectly in his.

"Yeah, but a certain someone told me I had to seize the day. I can't ignore her, she's the smartest person I know."

Gert's eyes are wet, but he won't say anything. He can feel tears slipping down his own cheeks.

"Is she good looking, too?"

"Oh, the prettiest girl ever." He starts leading her towards the hidden door that will lead them down to the Hostel, back with their family where they belong.

"She sounds like-" Gert's voice catches. "Like a catch, then. Don't let her go, okay?"

"Never," he says, like a promise, like a vow, like _til death._

* * *

 

"I figured out the answer, by the way."

"Hmm?" Gert's memories are still spotty, but she's unlocking more memories each day. Sometimes it's a visual cue, sometimes it's a word or a phrase. Molly quickly made it into a game, and there's a complicated points system for each memory someone triggers. She's the only one who knows how the scoring works, but she informs Chase that he's winning.

"The best moment. Or our happiest. whatever. That thing."

They're lying in bed. Gert's reading, some book bigger than Chase's head. Chase was going to sleep, but it's hard to do, with Gert right beside him.

Gert puts down her book and turns to him. "Right. That thing. What is it?"

He smiles. "Remember when we were buying underwear?"

She wrinkles her nose. "Chase, I love you, but there was nothing romantic about your underwear habits at that point in time."

He waves his hand at that, because hey, he was being very practical, okay? "No, after that."

"When we... made out in the changing room?"

"Yeah." He's grinning, that stupid wide grin that always makes Gert roll her eyes, even as she tries to hide that she's smiling too. "And you said the future's overrated, and that you only had eyes for me. And that I'm smart."

"Oh, shut up." She gives him a little shove, but he knows she's only doing it as an excuse to burrow up close to him under the covers, tucking her body into the gap he always instinctively left for her, even when she wasn't there.

"Am I right, though?"

She kisses his cheek, and then closes her eyes. "I did say you were smart."

He grins, closes his eyes. "I love you."

"Love you too," she repeats. There's no blood in her lungs, no gasp of breath for the words, no flatline. 

She was right. The future is overrated. Here, in bed with the girl of his dreams, both of them still breathing, is the only thing that matters.

 


End file.
